Writing Sucks, and So Does Love
by Senorita TacoMal
Summary: Prussia has trouble confessing his feelings to Hungary, so he tries to write it in a letter. And fails. For 500 years. Now Hungary's found those old letters, and seen what she wasn't supposed to have seen. Not AU, and human names are used, but not in casual banter between countries.
1. Elizabeta

Woo! New story! This is one of five Hetalia stories I'm currently writing, and is the only chapter I've ever written in one go, then uploaded. I plan to use country names in my non AU stories because they feel more authentic to me.

What I do own is, well, what I hope to own in the next half-year is a one-way plane ticket to Japan to study abroad for a year. And that is so far looking like it will probably happen!

Enjoy in moderation!

* * *

"Prussia? What is this?"

Hungary knew very well what was on the sheet of paper she had just read. And when Prussia had come bolting out of Germany's house, she knew very well that she had two options: 1) Pretend that she hadn't seen anything, balled the crinkled sheet of paper back up, and tossed it with the rest of them, or 2) Confront Prussia. What she didn't know for certain was the awkward position to which her question would lead her in the near future.

Prussia's stance was frozen in horror, mouth open with a shout he was about to use to get her attention before she could see the contents of any one of those balls of paper. But he'd been too late. When he threw open the back door to his house, she'd been standing there by the recycling, reading one of them.

Well… crap.

For the entire back story on what was unfolding, you'd have to go back about five hundred years. 1526, to be exact. September. For the reader's sake (as if you believe that's why…) conversation has translated to modern-day lingo.

* * *

The cool weather of fall felt good on the Prussian's skin. He was lying in a meadow near his house, his mind cluttered with thoughts. Some about the fact that he was freaking _starving, _others were ones that he wished he could somehow force from his mind.

"Hey, Gilbert!"

Prussia turned his attention right and slightly behind him. He knew the voice well; it belonged to a good friend of his from when he was the Teutonic Knights. It was crazy to think that it'd hardly been a year since he was forced to give up that name. Those were fun times, and they'd would have given him a good distraction from his thoughts, but they'd come to an end, much too quickly. His friend was human, and most of the members of the order had always found it easier to just call Prussia by a human name rather than "Teutonic Knights." Rolled off the tongue more easily and didn't get confusing.

"What are you doing out here? Lying in a meadow looking pensive doesn't suit you," he joked, coming to a stop by his friend, still standing. "Come here to be alone?"

"Ah, you know you're always welcome, Huppert. I just came to get out of the house," he replied. His friend took a seat next to him. "I've had a lot on my mind, as of late."

"I can tell; you've been acting weird ever since that one day you came home with no pants." Huppert stifled a laugh; he had a very easy-to-trigger sense of humor, but Prussia's mental preoccupation with whatever it was hadn't been cured by Huppert's earlier attempts at laughing it off, and it probably wouldn't be cured by it now.

"That was the day I found out she was a girl… I should have known…" Prussia said wistfully.

Huppert was the kind of guy who, up-front, seemed very carefree and simple. Underneath the top layer of his personality, though, were many things, and one was the ability to read others with the accuracy of the Hubble telescope. Or whatever was extremely accurate in 1526. The change in voice, the way what he said was phrased, and color of his friend's eyes to a slightly deeper shade of red let him know with near certainty that his hunch was accurate.

"So~ This whole mental conflict has been over Hungary then."

Prussia's face dropped at the truth being said aloud, but there was no reason to deny it. Huppert might poke fun at certain things, but he would never make a friend feel bad about something important to them. He also had a way of talking about things that neither isolated nor patronized the person he was talking to. If anything, he was the perfect person with whom to talk about his thoughts. "Yeah," Prussia said simply, not sure what else to add.

"So, Gilbert has crush on Miss Hungary."

Prussia made some sort of horrible noise as this even more blunt truth struck him.

"Are you going to tell her how you feel?"

"TELL her; wha-" Prussia's jaw dropped. "She would kill me before I finished the sentence! 'Hungary, I like you-' *WHAM!* No more Gilbert!

"She hates me," he continued with less fervor. "We've always been arguing and fighting, ever since we were children. There's no way she could possibly accept my feelings, much less return them. And I've been particularly nasty to her since I found out about her gender."

"A woman's heart is a strange thing, my friend," Huppert replied wistfully. "I know men and women who have been the worst of enemies and become lovers when the man admitted his feelings. Their emotions are strong, but brittle. Of course, this doesn't always work, but if she's worth a try, it is always worth a try."

* * *

_ 'If she's worth a try, it is always worth a try.'_

Hungary was tired. She was weak, and overworked. Being torn apart was an incredibly painful experience for a country, but the Ottoman Empire was showing her no mercy, even though the war was over.

Her only solace was the end of the day, when she could finally curl up into her bed and find refuge in her dreams. But even there, reality sometimes plagued her. Blood, screams, tears, and pain. Wasn't it enough to see it in real life? Why did it have to follow her here?

Still, sleep was worth it for the chance that she would dream about something nice. A prince, arriving on horseback, to help save her country and its people from these butchers.

Something abnormal at the top of her eyes made her raise her bowed head. In the light of the lantern in front of her house, she could barely make out silver hair. What was that jerk doing there, and how did he get all the way to her house!

"What are you doing here, you jerk, and how did you get all of the way-"

"Good evening, Hungary." His voice sound slightly strained, which spoke volumes more about his mood to Hungary than it would to someone who didn't know him well.

Hungary's eyes widened. "Prussia… I see you're back to calling me by name…" She didn't know what this meant, but at the very least it meant he was being more civil. He hadn't tried to harass her yet, and his voice had a civil tone and was saying civil things. And… he'd called her by her country name. Ever since he'd found out she was a girl, he'd began calling her by a human name, claiming that "girls can't be countries, _Elizabeta_." It was a low blow. She'd just lost an incredibly important war, confirmed that she wasn't male, and then, even though it was by an idiot like Prussia, she'd been "demoted" to human status. It was really uncalled for insult-to-injury. She'd never let him know it, but for the first time in their rivalry, she'd gone home and cried because of something he'd said.

"Would you care to get off of my property?" she requested bitterly. "As you can probably see, all I want to do is sleep right now."

"I.. um… actually came here to tell you something," he said sheepishly, in a low tone. He forced out each word, fear striking like lightning through his mouth during each syllable.

"Well, unless you're here to admit your secret undying _love and devotion_ to me, make it quick."

That was the straw that broke the camel's back. Prussia, who was under an extreme amount of nerve-caused stress, snapped.

He laughed. Loudly, and obnoxiously. In her face.

"Like I would ever fall in love with someone like you who can't even defend her own country! Tell you what, _Elizabeta_, maybe someone like YOU should fall in love with someone like ME, so I can protect you from the big bad Ottomans. After all, ever woman needs a strong man t-"

***SLAP***

His vision went blurry and his head spun. If it weren't for the fact that his jaw wasn't broken and his face stung terribly, he would have assumed he was punched due to the sheer force. He was scared to look at her, but he had to.

He had good reason to be scared.

She didn't say a word, but her violently trembling posture and the look on her face said everything, and everything was chewing him up slowly and painfully, roasting him alive in searing flames, enjoying every moment of his torture, ripping him limb-from limb, and if he died, reanimating his corpse over and over to rinse and repeat for eternity.

And with that, she stormed into her house, and slammed the door.

Prussia stayed for several seconds in that state of mindscrew in which his body and mind had lost connection, back when Hungary had last spoken. Suddenly, the connection was regained, and the information of what the heck just happened came flooding into his brain.

"Oh God, forgive me… I'm such an idiot…" he murmured in a low tone. He grabbed one of the porch rails and leaned on it for stability, palming his entire face.

Inside the house, near the other side of the door, he heard something hit the ground, then a sharp inhale, followed by heavy sobbing. He took a peek inside the window to find Hungary sitting, crumpled on the ground. On the ground to her right was a frying pan; she'd been coming to use it, probably with the intention of decapitating him. And she was the obvious source of the tears, as she'd buried her face in her hands and her shoulder shook.

_'Oh God… I'm so sorry…' _He wanted nothing more in that moment but to take her into his arms and cradle her as he whispered every apology in the world into her ear. He was in such a state that he couldn't even keep sappy thoughts like those out of his head. Or out of his actual actions. Before he knew what he was doing or could think for his safety, his hand had found the doorknob, and he was entering the house.

"Hungary… please forgive-"

"**GET. OUT!**"

There was something beautiful about her face in that moment. Prussia's mind took a flash-frame image of her, hair wildly flowing around her, face livid, tears glistening on her cheeks, arm pulled back to throw the frying pan she'd once again wielded. He almost paused so long looking at her that he forgot that she was hurling a freaking frying pan at him. Yes, he deserved to get hit by it, but he wasn't so sure if he deserved what would happen to him if he got knocked out by it and was subject to Hungary's non-extant mercy, so he swung the door shut as a shield.

The pan loudly hit the door, causing a large fissure to splinter down the center of the door, and it clattered to the floor. He opened the door again slightly, but the sight of Hungary scrambling to her feet, murder in her eyes, was enough for him to pull the door all the way shut, turn tail, and run for his life.

* * *

"I… take it it didn't go too well, then."

Prussia glared at Huppert over the sharp and vivid hand-shaped bruise on his face. He wouldn't be leaving the house until that cleared up. Currently, they were sitting in the library in Prussia's house, Prussia slumped over the writing desk and Huppert occupying a chair by the window. They had another very close friend with them that day, Carsten, who Huppert had brought along to see how the confession to Hungary had gone. All three had beers in hand; when Huppert had seen the state Prussia was in that next morning, he realized that it was time to roll out a keg of the good stuff.

"I told her she was a failure of a country and that she needed a man like me to protect her," he deadpanned. "I'm the worst."

"I wouldn't say that, buuut, you certainly could have done better. At least you came home alive and in one piece." Huppert rose a good point with that last one.

"Barely. She threw a frying pan at me with enough force to nearly split a wooden door in half."

"I'm glad you dodged that one, buddy. But you have a lot of apologizing to do. Crush or no crush, that's just the right thing to do."

"Yeah, I know," agreed Prussia. "It's just… I don't know what's wrong with me. Every time I get stressed out about this romantic stuff, I sort of… lose it. I just start dishing out the insults."

"Sounds like your superiority complex is getting in the way." Carsten took a swig of his beer after speaking.

"There you go with your psychology crap again," teased Prussia. Carsten liked to think of himself as one, and even though his friends teased him because he wasn't specifically studied in it, he was actually relatively good.

"I'm serious. You're always going around, showing off and boasting about how awesome you are: Superiority complex, like we've mentioned before. Confronting Miss Hungary about your feelings makes you afraid that she won't accept you, that you're not good enough, or _inferior _in some way. When that stress from inferiority builds up enough, you reach a boiling point, and you attempt to untactfully re-establish your superiority."

Carsten's psychology stuff may have been annoying, but Prussia be darned if it didn't make sense. Either way, he rolled his eyes dismissively as he always did when Carsten was on his shrink pedestal. "Then if I can't actually tell her, how am I supposed to tell her without telling her!"

"You could get someone to tell her for you," suggested Carsten.

"What am I, a boy!" Prussia scoffed at the immaturity of the strategy suggested.

"I meant, for example, hire a bard to sing praises to her."

"Too sappy." Prussia cringed at the idea, and could just imagine Hungary's laughter. He'd never live that down.

"What about a letter?" Huppert said in a pensive tone. That could work… You get to say what you want to say, there's less stress because she's not there, and you won't blow up in her face again."

"Good idea! And in a letter, you can plan what you say before you say it," added Carsten.

"Huppert. You're brilliant!" shouted Prussia.

"I know," he said, jokingly being conceited. "Oh, but I would write her a letter of apology before I wrote the love letter."

"That can be done," agreed Prussia. "I don't know how to write a love letter, though! Whenever I think of them, I think sappy French or Italian love junk. I will write one that is much more awesome, but I may need your help in writing it."

"That's what friends are for, right Carsten?" Huppert said with a grin.

"That is correct." He smiled back.

"Right then." He un-corked the bottle of ink in front of him, grabbed his best quill, and put nib to paper. "Let's get to work."

* * *

I think this story will have two or three chapters total; I was originally planning on a one-shot, then a two-shot, but I think it will be three. I will also have a sequel. I plan to take this story in a direction that some people might not like, and I'm going to try to appease the people who aren't satisfied with the ending in a separate one-shot. Thanks for reading!


	2. That's Hungary, with an E

I wrote this chapter from like, midnight to 3 in the morning, so I apologize if there are any mistakes. I noticed at least two typos in the first chapter. I didn't mean to make it this long, either. I wanted to finish it, and I was reaching a stopping point at 1600 words, but didn't want this chapter to be significantly shorter. So then, the opposite happened... oh well.

Thanks for the positive feedback! It made me really happy ^_^

* * *

"This… This can't be done…"

He was feeling the most defeated and low he had in his entire existence. Several levels lower than he had even when he was forced to change his name last year.

The letter of apology had been relatively easy to write. He just told her that he was under a lot of stress, and that he didn't really mean what he had said. But writing the love letter was nigh on _impossible_. Carsten kept making kissy-kissy romantic puke-fest suggestions on the best things to say in order to woo Hungary, and Huppert kept asking him questions that made him talk about how he really felt about her. He HATED talking about that. The entire thing had gotten so incredibly awkward that it ended up triggering Prussia's "superiority explosion," as Carsten had come to call it. He flipped over his chair and forced his friends, loudly and angrily, to get out, claiming that "THE AWESOME PRUSSIA DOESN'T NEED YOUR HELP! I CAN WRITE A STUPID GIRLY LOVE LETTER ALL BY MYSELF!"

It had been ten hours since then. Ten. Hours. It was ten at night, and Prussia was now alone, sitting in the same stupid chair, at the same stupid desk, in the same stupid library, holding the same stupid pen…

"Schieβe!" he yelled, bringing a fist down and stabbing the paper with his quill. "Why did I kick those two out…? Seriously, I have filled up this waste paper basket with rejects! Everything is either too sappy, too boastful, or too something!" He let out a long, tired sigh, the kind one does with their brain is fried. "Maybe if I rest and try again tomorrow, something will hit me."

The only thing that hit Prussia the next day, was the exhaustion of more failures. And the next day. And the day after that.

By the fifth day, he'd more or less given up. The floor was littered with scores of crumpled paper balls, some containing epic letters that filled the entire sheet before being tossed, others only a few words. But none of them were right. He didn't even bother cleaning them up; he never wanted to see them again, much less actually touch them. He wished they would just catch fire and burn away, taking the feelings they contained with them, so he could go back to being his normal awesome self.

"Okay." His voice was stressed and raspy. "This obviously is not working. Perhaps if I read some of these letters, I can find enough sentences that I like to piece together something worth showing."

But he could barely get through three of them. The first one started, _"You are the most beauti-"_ before he'd scrapped that letter. He felt like he could have run a syrup farm and not seen that much sap in a lifetime. Seeing those words, in his handwriting, knowing who they addressed, stung. As long as the thoughts stayed in his head, they were still abstract, but once they were written tangibly, or said by other people, he could feel their weight. The next had at least gotten a full sentence from him. _"The great and awesome me has recently found myself plagued with thoughts of you."_

_Plagued? _In a love letter? Really?

Making a woman sound like an unwanted disease was surely not the way to win her heart; that much even Prussia knew, so he'd scrapped that one.

_"I've been thinking a lot. I don't know how it happened, but ever since that day I -saw your brea-_ (He later crossed this part out)_ found out your true gender, I haven't been able to get you off my mind, and I fear that I may have fallen in love with you."_

While he found this one to be a tiny bit creepish, it was better than the previous two. Not too extreme. He'd figured that saying "your boobs are sexy, I love you" was also not the best way to tell her, but this was just a draft, so he'd crossed it out and kept going. Something that he couldn't put his finger on just did not feel right about this one, though. But, it was a start. If any more of these were like this, he actually might be able to pull together something decent.

"Oh, who am I kidding…..?" He was hit with a sudden wave of uncertainty about the entire thing. "Even if I do come up with a good letter, she will probably reject it anyway. Even if she reads my apology instead of ripping it into a thousand pieces, she'd never forgive me for being such an idiot." Prussia rubbed his face tiredly with both hands.

Still, though, he decided to collect all of the balls of paper, unfurl them, and bind them together, placing them inside of his desk.

"I need to get my mind off of this crap," he groaned to himself. "I'm going for a walk." He was a bit stir crazy from being forced to stay in the house while his bruise cleared up, but it was gone now, and he needed the fresh air.

He would have stayed in his house for another thousand years if he'd known he was going to run into Hungary.

* * *

When he'd realized that the person coming around the sharp corner on the wooded path was Hungary, he'd immediately and suddenly had a flight response. But, there was nowhere he could have possibly run to where she wouldn't have been able to track him down and kill him. They were close enough so that she would have easily recognized him, too. Which, of course, she did.

"H-Hungary," he greeted her in a humble tone, too scared to think of anything like, "good afternoon," or "hello," to add to that.

"Hello, _Prussia_. I received your letter of apology."

"Yes… I'm so very sorry for my outburst… Like I said, I was very stressed out at the time, and I sort of just… lost it. I stopped thinking."

"Well, you don't think before you speak much anyway, so it's no different than normal," she huffed.

"I know." Prussia agreed with her insult, which surprised her. "I just… if I can be honest for a second… seeing you sitting there, sobbing… and the fact that I was the one who did that to you, it… It broke my heart."

Hungary's expression went from scorned to somewhere between soft and confused. She wasn't prepared for him to say something like that, and therefore didn't have a response.

The look on her face was bothering him.

"O-of course, the great and awesome Prussia doesn't normally feel mercy, and you kind of screwed the whole thing up by throwing a frying pan at me."

"What?" That guy couldn't be nice for more than eight seconds. Seriously. "What was I supposed to do? I was furious at you!"

There was that look of irritation that he'd come to know. He was starting to think that being attracted to her angry face was going to be his downfall.

"If that had hit me, it would have killed me!"

"Well, I wanted you dead at the time, so that would have been more than welcome." Her snarky banter was adorable. Getting her riled up was just too much fun.

But, at the same time, Prussia could see that this conversation was about to head south. Before he stopped thinking and called her Elizabeta again, it was probably best for him to leave. There was no way even she had enough patience to accept a second apology for the same thing.

He moved around and walked past her. "I have much more awesome things to be doing than talking to you, E-Hungary. I have to-"

"_What _did you almost just call me…?"

Oh COME ON. He had just ENDED the conversation so he wouldn't say something without thinking again!

He *really* didn't want to turn around this time. Especially not since what he'd seen the last time he'd not wanted to turn around to look at Hungary, but did anyway.

And of course, he _still _did anyway.

This time, her back was turned. Her fists were curled, but at least he couldn't see her face. Of course, not knowing her expression brought with it a whole new level of fear.

"Hungary?" Maybe he could trick her into thinking she heard an E in there.

"I distinctly heard you start with an 'eh' sound."

Crap. "No, all I said was Hungary."

"I dare you. To call me Elizabeta. One more time. Do it, and you'll never see the light of day again."

Maybe, if she hadn't posed it as a challenge, Prussia could have just walked away. But, she did. It was her fault.

He just couldn't resist an opportunity to make her squirm.

"What was that? I couldn't hear you over the sound of your ovaries crying out in pain, Elizabeta."

She turned. Her teeth were not gritted, she was not scowling, and she was not trying to make an attempt on his life. Nope. Hungary was smirking.

"You really are an idiot, aren't you, you poor, poor, pathetic soul." She shook her head slowly. "I'm not angry any longer. I take pity on you now. Either you lied, and you didn't mean that apology, or your brain is so small that it can't even resist a simple dare. I used to think that feuding with you was sort of fun. Now it seems that I've grown up and you're still as immature as ever."

"I don't take insults from-"

"I don't know where that sentence is going, but it's not going anywhere good. Think _really _long and hard about it, _Gilbert. _Do you really want to finish that statement?"

He did as he was told. "…No."

"I didn't think so. So which is it? Are you a liar, or an idiot, _Gilbert_?"

He didn't want to be there, in that moment. So he did what someone who doesn't want to be somewhere does. He left.

"I'm both, Hungary," he said softly, the words carried back to her on the wind. "I'm an idiot who's lying to himself."

* * *

There was no way that he was going to be able to tell her, no matter what. So he, for the most part, gave up. The old letters stayed where they were, and collected dust over the centuries. But the feelings he'd tried to write in them never left. He'd occasionally jot down thought about her in his diaries, and sometimes even added new attempts at letters to the collection, but they all came out crappy. Over the centuries, he'd made friends with other countries. Most of the ones around him disliked him, so his only friends had been humans. It was kind of depressing, hanging around them as they aged, a visual reminder that he would live for an indeterminate amount of time, but almost certainly longer than them. Both Carsten's and Huppert's last request of him before they passed away in their late fifties, Carsten two years before Huppert, was that he finally reveal his true feelings to Hungary. That was a promise that he did not know how to keep.

Their interactions since 16th century had been abysmal at worst and not-killing-one-another at best. Every interaction crushed his hopes that he may stand a chance with her, but reinvigorated his emotions toward her. They hadn't had any blowouts quite as bad as the first time, but some got close. He had had to dodge several more frying pans. For her birthday in 1796, one of the years they were getting along better, he brought her a new set of expensive pans to replace the ones she'd damaged due to his grief-causing. The present was well-received. That was probably the best moment they'd shared in their relationship.

The only thing that ever took his mind completely off of Hungary was the birth of his younger brother in 1815. He was there on the day he was born, and he brought a joy into his life, the likes of which he had not experienced in a very, very long time. The blessing in disguise was that taking care of a three-year-old for 56 years doesn't leave much room to think about anything else.

And then his state of immunity came crashing down.

Prussia does not like to talk about 1867. For obvious reasons. Let's just say that Spain did a lot of babysitting, and France did a lot of comforting and a lot of keeping Prussia's drunken rage from causing any damage, to objects, persons, or feelings. He stayed that way for two and a half weeks. April was not a fun month.

Germany stayed a toddler until 1871. After he reached four that year, his growth took off, as many countries' do, ageing at about the same rate as a human until he reached 17 in 1884.

One day, in 1872, Germany came home from playing at the park, with a bag full of flowers that had been roughly pulled from the ground. By the time Prussia discovered that he was home, Germany had already dumped them on the kitchen table, and was furiously doing something with them.

"Germany! What's with all of the dirt on the table where we eat!" Prussia complained. "You know better by now; you are six years old!"

Germany cringed. He was hoping to explain before Prussia saw the mess, but he hadn't heard him approaching. "Sorry, big brother. But, this is really important! I promise I'll clean up, and wash the table and all."

Prussia's voice returned to normal "Well, as long as you keep your word on that, there's no reason to stop now that you've already made a garden out of our table. What are you making, anyway?"

"A flower wreath," Germany explained, continuing his work now that he had permission. "You connect these flowers like this, and do it for all of them, and it makes a wreath."

"And why are you making a flower wreath?" Prussia inquired, using that gentle voice that people use with children.

"There's this girl at the park named Elsie, and she is so pretty." When he was young, Germany used to be a lot more open about romance. There was a wistful and pure look in his young eyes, one that was way too mature for a six-year-old to actually have, and Prussia knew he was mimicking it from what he'd read in books. "She is my true love. So I will make her a flower wreath that is as beautiful as she."

Prussia's heart twitched when Germany revealed the name of his crush. Elsie was short for Elisabeth. _'My six-year-old brother… who has been around for several centuries less than I… is better at getting girls that I am… WHAT SORT OF CRUEL FATE IS THIS, GOD!'_

Up in Heaven, God shrugged. "Just wait around for another coupledecades," he said in his Old West sheriff's drawl. "You'll be surprised at his ineptitude."

Prussia, of course, couldn't hear God, so he was left to sulk in his misery.

"Big brother? Are you feeling alright? You look sort of pale."

His attention snapped back toward the young Germany. "Yes, fine, fine." He planned to spare Germany the fact that nations and humans falling in love was not a very good idea. He was young, and it was only his first crush. He would learn someday. For now, he could be a child, for the most part. Child nations still had to take care of some diplomatic things, but in return, they were allowed all the freedoms a child could ever want.

"Have you ever had someone you loved, big Brother?"

This kid. Prussia hated him so much right then.

No reason in lying to a 6-year-old, though. "Yes, I did… I do, actually. Her name is… Elizabeta. But, she doesn't like being called that. I, however…" Prussia hadn't thought about it, but he liked her human name. It suited her beautifully. "I like it."

"Hmmm, still, it's kind of mean to call her that if she doesn't like it. What's she like?"

Sharp kid. "She has long, wavy brown hair, green eyes, and… a very kind smile. She's very tough, too. She's beaten me half to death on several occasions."

"Did you…" Germany's voice lowered to a whisper, even though no one else was in the room, his eyes alight with intrigue, "…tell her you like her?"

"I… I tried. But it is very hard for me. I used to be very mean to her, so she doesn't really like me. And…" This was still painful for Prussia to mention, "she married a few years ago."

"Oh… well… you could try making her a flower wreath! All of my fairy tale books say that women love flowers. And then she will fall in love with you and leave him."

Prussia chuckled at Germany's simplistic solution. "She doesn't live in Prussia. She lives in Hungary." He refused to refer to that place as Austria-Hungary. "The flowers would wilt by the time they got there."

* * *

Speaking of wilting flowers, the next day, Germany was devastated to find out that his flower wreath had wilted. Bits of the vivid white and purple flowers had turned brown, and the stems had turned limp and dull. Prussia made it up to him by calling in a favor from an elderly neighboring couple, who gladly let him cut one of the lovely pink roses from their garden. After cutting off the thorns and dropping off Germany at the park, Prussia stayed around long enough to watch from a distance as Germany show the girl the wilted wreath, and then present her with the rose instead. She was delighted, and gave him a kiss on the cheek in thanks. Prussia laughed as he watched his brother's face turn red, a vivid color that he could even see at a distance.

The girl had bouncy brown curls, and with the way she was dressed, reminded him of Hungary. "If only it were that easy now…" he thought wistfully. "If only…"

* * *

Time up until the present day progressed relatively smoothly. His brother continued to grow and eventually forgot about that girl. When he was around 15, Germany somehow came to realize that the woman his brother had been talking about was Hungary. When he asked him whether or not his theory was true, Prussia admitted that he didn't think that Germany would remember it when he told him, and that he wouldn't have told him if he thought he would have remembered.

Austria and Hungary divorced in 1918 . THAT was a fun time. Prussia, however, realized that he didn't know what to do now that Hungary was available, and that he and that guy were nothing alike, so whatever vile thing had attracted her to Austria would not be found in him. So, he just had a party with himself , drinking beer and watching TV, enjoying life again for once.

The only bump in the road was the end of World War II.

* * *

Prussia did not know what was going to happen to him. He was preparing for the worst. At best, he knew that whatever it was, it was going to hurt. A lot.

Germany was similarly unhappy with his brother's possible death. He may have had diplomatic power, but not THAT much. There was really nothing he could do to prevent it.

"You're thinking about her, aren't you?"

Prussia had been more or less silent for the past several days, and Germany knew him well.

"Yeah…"

"Don't you think it's time you told her?"

"I thought about it," he admitted. "But then, I realized: If I die, I can't have her. If I live, I'll never live down the humiliation. She's not going to return my feelings. You know that good and well.

* * *

Prussia did survive, though. Whatever strings were keeping these countries alive, Prussia's apparently hadn't all been severed. He lived, despite the odds, through the next several decated, all the way to today. Hanging by a thread, but still very much alive.

"Hungary's coming to stay here for a few days, Prussia."

With that news, he wished he'd died.


	3. My Little Brother is a Jerk

*****About this update: These next two chapters were originally one chapter. At first I thought about splitting this into two when it hit 3000 words, then I got stubborn and wanted to get back to chapter one events ASAP, then as it passed 4000, I decided, "This is ridiculous; no way I'm making them do 4000 at one time."

Raise your hand if you normally ignore the A/Ns at the tops of new chapteeers! *Raises hand* III dooo, but I write them anywaaay! I'm a hypocriiite!*****

* * *

"…I mean, why the hell would you even invite her to stay over here! You know that something like that would stress me majorly! Now I'm going to have to go and get a hotel room, and…"

Prussia had gone on a three minute-long rant on why Germany was the worst little brother in the history of forever for even _thinking_ about offering Hungary a place to stay, and there didn't seem to be any end in sight. After another 30 seconds of him steaming about how "unawesome" this whole thing was, once Germany was thoroughly annoyed, he finally interrupted him.

"Or, maybe I thought, I don't know, you could be a mature adult about the situation instead of turning our home into a 'No Girls Allowed' fortress."

"Germanyyy, even you know that this is different! This is Hungary! It's not like I'm afraid of cooties or something like that!"

"I think your fear of 'cooties' is what's been causing your problems with her. Either way, I don't see how this is any different than any other time you've been around her. She is here for diplomatic reasons, so she'll be in meetings with me most of the day."

"But I've never slept over with her in the same house before! Not since we were kids, and I thought she was a boy then! Plus I didn't have a choice. We were stranded in the woods, and ended up fighting all night." Mentioning Hungary in the same sentence as a sleepover brought images of a tired Hungary, yawning and curling up in her bed, so tired that she didn't mind having some company to snuggle with as they drifted off to-

NO. Just… just no.

"So, like you said, you could get a hotel room, or stay at a friend's, or _act like a man instead of a boy, and stop running away from your problems_!" Prussia groaned in response. Germany knew running away like a little bitch was not Prussia's style, and he knew Prussia knew that he knew that. As emotionally stifled as he was, Germany could bend Prussia around his little finger with hardly any effort at all. Only when it came to his big brother was he such a genius at psychological torture.

"I also think that it's time you finished that letter."

"Huh? Ohhh, you mean that one that I _SUCK AT WRITING_!"

"Yes." He ignored his brothers angry retort. "You've been getting along relatively well with her recently, haven't you?"

That was true. They were probably having the most peaceful, dare he say friendly, period they'd had a in a long time. "Yes…?"

"If you write the letter, don't blow up at her in these next few days; perhaps be _nice _to her for once, and give it to her when she leaves, maybe she'll accept it. At the very worst, she won't kill you. The better her mood, the better it is for you."

"When did you suddenly get with the romance-savvy, Germany?" Prussia asked, dubiously. Such advice was extremely out of character of his brother, who hadn't seemed to have a romantic bone in his body since he was a child.

"I may not be France, but I have common sense."

"Mm …" Prussia thought about what Germany was saying. It did make sense. Maybe he'd give the whole thing one more go. He'd suffered enough blows to his ego, especially since he wasn't much of a country anymore, to where his superiority complex had died down. Although he still put up the façade of acting like he was the world's greatest gift, it wasn't as serious as it used to be. Maybe he could finally get this stupid letter thing done.

* * *

Prussia did go back to his room and put pen to paper once more. A couple of days later, Hungary arrived. And of course, he wasn't done. His writing was closer to what he was looking for, but still nowhere near what he wanted it to be. He greeted her and helped her carry her bags in, then immediately retreated back to his room to continue working. Italy was also visiting for a few days, so Prussia knew that he didn't have to save the two from his brother's awkwardness in one-on-one conversation.

Another day passed, and Prussia had been working tirelessly. Once again, his trashcan was filled to the top. He'd gone back to the letters he'd written so long ago, now yellowed and delicate from so many years. He'd thrown many of those out along with his new failures. They weren't helping.

"Break time," he moaned, on the afternoon of Hungary's second day of visiting. "He simply stood up, turned around stiffly, and walked out of the room. _'And on this day,' _he thought to himself, _'Not a single awesome fuck was given.' _It may have been a cliché thought, but hey, it applied. He decided to take a quick run to a nearby restaurant, and grab some quick takeout. Come back, wash it down with some beer, and numb his mind with a little television.

Now, Prussia had been able to have so much privacy while Hungary was around, mainly because Germany had told her that he was busy with something in his room and wouldn't be available to talk much. Therefore as of yet, she hadn't bothered him. What Prussia didn't know before he left the house was that today, the other three were still home.

It all started a few months ago in Italy. Veneziano and Romano had received some tomato sauce from England as a birthday present. Of course, they were afraid to even open the thing, let alone allow it to potentially disgrace their pasta. Fast forward to when Italy left to come over to Germany's a few days ago, and Romano, mad that Italy was going to spend time with Germany, had switched out the good tomato sauce Italy had packed with the stuff England made. Upon eating it, the poor Italian's stomach had gotten incredibly offended. Seriously. _Offended_. There was nothing actually wrong with the tomato sauce; it was just a bit bland. But Italy's stomach had launched a mutiny over it, and Hungary and Germany were staying home to take care of him; Germany was keeping him from freaking out over his nightmares of Britain's army of evil box of tomatoes fairies trying to kill him, and Hungary had made him some food to undo the damage and calm his stomach.

To keep herself busy since she'd finished cooking, she'd taken to idly tidying up around the house. Germany was extremely neat, and told Hungary that she didn't have to, but Hungary still felt that the place could use "a woman's touch" in tidying up. She'd seen Prussia from the front window, walking away from the house, and figured she could use that opportunity to check to see if his room needed cleaning.

"Ugh! This place is a pigsty!" She eyed the balls of paper littering the floor, flooding from the overfilled trashcan by his desk. A stack of old-looking papers was strewn across his unmade bed. "I guess it's like I always imagined. I figured he'd be more of the neat-and-clean type because of his brother, but those two are as different as night and day as it is." In reality, the room had only started getting messy in the past few days before and since her arrival. Although his room was cluttered, it usually wasn't messy. Prussia was almost as neat as Germany, if a bit of a packrat.

She started by grabbing the trashcan. It only contained paper, so she brought it back to Germany's room to ask where she should take it.

"Germany? Where is your recycling?"

"Hm? Oh, outside, behind the house."

He noticed the bin she was carrying, and he knew at that moment that he had been granted the potential to change the course of the future, and the outcome of Prussia's age-old struggle.

He could tell Hungary that Prussia didn't want anyone else moving his things around while he was working, resulting in her putting the bin back and leaving things how they were, he could say nothing, let her keep cleaning, and increase the likelihood that she'd figure out the contents of the things she was moving, _or _he could encourage her to take a look at those crumpled balls of paper.

Knowing that the first option could result in another 500 years of the same damn thing, and the third might result in Prussia beating him to a pulp, he opted for the second.

"Thanks!" She continued on her merry way.

"I wonder what all of those balls of paper were," Italy said.

"You may find out soon enough," Germany replied. "By the way, if Prussia asks, neither of us saw that the trash bin was full of paper. Got it?"

Italy was confused, but he agreed. "Um, okay…"

* * *

The recycling bins were right behind the house, like Germany had said. Looking down at the mix of papers, she frowned when she looked more closely at the yellower ones. They seemed ancient. _'Why would he still have papers this old?' _she thought._ 'Are these even recyclable?_' She picked one up, feeling the old, coarse linen fibers. _'I'm not sure that they are; I guess I'll throw the older ones away.'_

Some of the text on the inside of the ball she was holding had become visible when she was trying to determine what the paper was made from, and it jumped out at her immediately. Only four little letters, but they were the last four of her name, in German: "-garn".

_'Was he writing about me?'_ She opened it up enough to see the beginning of the word. Surely enough, it said "Ungarn": German for Hungary.

"What?" she said loudly. If these papers were as old as they looked, they couldn't have contained anything good. They used to be the most bitter of rivals. "Who was he writing to about me!" She annoyedly tore open (as gently as she could tear open a fragile piece of centuries-old paper) the ball of paper.

_"Sehr geehrte Ungarn!_

_It is me, the great and awesome Prussia. And I have something to tell you. Something has been bothering me for a while now, and I think that because it is your fault, you should know about it. I think I may have somehow accidentally, fallen in love with you. Stupid, right? But I can't stop thinking about it, and it's really annoying. So you should take responsibility for this. I'm far too awesome to be subjected to"_

That was where the letter ended before he'd decided to discard it.

She wasn't sure whether to laugh, drop her jaw, or follow any of the other sudden impulses that hit her. They all ended up crowding in her mind, fighting to be her first reaction, and none of them passed through. Her mind was a complete blank.

Finally, a reaction did come to her. And it was to grab another ball of paper and open it. This one was more recent, and was written in imperfect, but legible Hungarian.

_'Kedves Magyarország!_

_Something has been bothering me for a while. A long while. Three hundred years long. Whenever I see you, I freeze up because I don't know what to say. Being around you makes my heart race nervously. I can hide it, from the outside world, but not myself. I have fallen for you. You are adorable when you are angry, and that is my downfall. I just can't keep myself from provoking you, like a schoolboy pulling the pigtails of the girl he likes. I know that made you hate me even more. I've been pretty unawesome to you, especially since I, since we, rather, found out that you are a woman. And I'm sorry for that. If I could do anything, even more than have you, it would be to take away the pain I've caused you from being so stupid. I know one "I'm sorry" won't make it up to you, so please, let me try my hardest every day to make it up to you.'_

_'Kedves Magyarország,_

_You'd be surprised to know just how many letters I wrote before this one, how unawesome they all were, and how long I spent trying to get it right. Here goes:_

_I've loved you since 1526. Yes, nearly 500 years. And I haven't had the balls to tell you until now._

_I was afraid that'd I'd hurt you too much in our past, especially since that year. I didn't think you'd ever accept it, and I'd be the source of your laughter for the next thousand years._

_It's everything about you that you love. How fierce you are in battle, how fiesty you are in our arguments. Personally, I think you are cutest when you are mad at me. Which might be why the past half-millenium didn't go so well._

_All of the letters I've written so far came out too sappy or too insensitive. I'm sure this one sucks too. And I know you're probably laughing your ass off at me right now, or thinking that this is some sort of practical joke. It's not. Please, allow me to prove it to you by attending America and Canada's birthday party with me this weekend. Give me at least a chance to show that I'm not as bad as I seem.'_

America and Canada's birthday party… This third letter could have been from any of the past few years, but Hungary had a feeling that this one was recent. Past few days recent. They'd received an invite e-mail on the day she arrived. It could be a coincidence, or she may be about to find herself in a situation she most certainly hadn't planned on.

* * *

*****Interesting side note: The proper way to write a German greeting for a letter used to be with an exclamation point in place of a comma, until modern times.

Sorry for the meh ending, but don't forget that this and the next chapter is really supposed to be one long chapter. I just picked something that was in the middle of the story, and I was planning on putting a line break there anyway, so it made a suitable chapter break point.

How did this story get to be so long? How did these chapters get to be so long! I was originally planning on this whole story being less than 5000 words and like, three chapters. Looks more like 15000, with at least six chapters, three alternate endings, and a possible sidestory oneshot. Oops.*****


	4. Red and Green

*****BTdubs, I'm purposely trying to keep the year out of this fic; that's why I say "500" instead of "486", so if someone stumbles across this in later years, they won't feel a disconnect. I know I would. For reals, yo~*****

* * *

Prussia returned to the house relatively quickly. The first thing that he noticed amiss was that the mailbox was empty. The mailman was several houses down the street, and a day that they didn't get a single piece of mail was a rare occurrence. Prussia frowned, shrugged, and entered the house without another thought toward it…

Until he opened the door and saw that the mail was on the table in the foyer, meaning someone had to have been home to get it. Sure, it could have just been Italy, but just in case…

"Bruder?" he called out, listening for a reply. A faint one came back; Germany's room was quite far away.

"Ja?"

"Is Hungary here?"

"Ja!"

If he'd known she was still around, he would have hidden his stuff just in case she went to his room while he was gone. But, he was just being worried over nothing. There was no reason for her to have-

His opinion on the matter changed drastically once he got into his room and realized that his trash can was missing.

"DEUUUUTSCHLAAAAAAND!"

Germany, aware that some serious stuff might be about to go down, was already halfway down the hall when he heard rapidfire footsteps thundering down the stairs. Prussia must've jumped the last four or five stairs, because he hit the wall opposite the stairs, rebounded off of it, and came to a landing in front of Germany.

"WO IST UNGARN!" he demanded frantically.

"I think she's out back," Germany replied innocently. He appeared normal enough to Prussia, but was actually finding it incredibly difficult to keep the corners of his mouth from rising.

He didn't have to keep up the "I know nothing" façade for long, as he barely finished the word "back" before Prussia had pushed passed him and was sprinting down the hallway.

Italy, who'd gotten up to see what the commotion was about, was nearly trucked by Prussia as he left Germany's room. "GET OUT OF MY AWESOME WAY!" he was growled at. He pulled back just in time, and Prussia continued at top speed until he reached the back door, throwing it open.

"G-Germany… What's wrong with Prussia!" He was obviously shaken from the near miss.

And obviously confused by the smirk on the German's face. "Come to my office with me." Germany's office was the room on the back wall of the house, so he and Italy would be able to see and hear everything that transpired. "I think something very interesting is about to happen."

Germany closed the door behind his brother, and Italy asked no questions; seeing Germany being playfully devious was a rare sight, and he was sure that something very interesting indeed was about to occur.

* * *

By then, Hungary had already innocently popped the lethal question, and Prussia was already frozen in a catatonic state.

_"Prussia? What's this?"_

"I… uhhh… how… many of those did you read?"

"About six or seven."

"They're from a long time ago," he partially lied. "I… might have had a little crush on you for a bit when I found out you are a girl."

She held one up that was written on modern-day stationary. "Really? Because this one looks like it was from last Tuesday."

Of all the ones she found, it HAD to be one of the ones that mentioned how long he'd been in love with her. Of all the letters, only about twenty-five percent of them mentioned that "it's been x number of years", and less than five percent were recent enough to have said "500 years". Only two of them had brought up Canada and America's birthday party, which is what he guessed she used to judge the date on that one.

"Oh, _that _one, haha! Yeah, that was a while b-"

Her tone went even flatter at his transparent lies. "The stationary has a copyright on the back from this year."

He couldn't fight that one. "Um…"

Hungary's voice went back to being more gentle and understanding. "I already know the truth, Prussia. So why don't you tell it to me yourself?"

"…I've been trying." His voice was low and full of embarrassment and shame. "The earliest letter was written in September of 1526. September 30th. I remember, because it was a month to the day after I… started to…" After so long, so many years, so many attempts and even now that she _knew, _the concept of admitting that he loved Hungary to her face, was alien and strange. There was no way red and green could make contact right now. He couldn't even bear to acknowledge that she was there, let alone look her in the eye.

"I didn't want to admit it to myself. Then I finally admitted it to a friend, and he suggested I tell you, but… Not only could I not do it, I freaked out and exploded into insulting you. And I made you cry. That was the second worst I've felt in my entire life."

Hungary remembered as the night she'd almost killed him with her frying pan. His words still stung for centuries after, but time heals _all _wounds. Sometimes it just takes a few hundred years.

"The worst was when you married Austria. But then my brother was still a baby. If it weren't for the fact that he needed me, and France and Spain were there to look out for us… I don't know what I would have done.

"I'd mostly given up on writing the letters, but Germany suggested that I try again, since you were coming to visit. Damnit," he suddenly cursed, fed up with the whole situation, and moreso, himself. He gently grasped her hands in his own, and her eyes widened with the sudden skin-on-skin contact. Eye contact was even more difficult, but Prussia forced himself not to think about it as his crimson eyes finally locked on to her green ones. "Hungary, I'm sorry for how I'm going to word this. I know you never liked it, and I always used it to pick on you, but _I _always liked it. I thought it was beautiful." He hesitated momentarily.

"What are you talk-"

"Elizabeta, I _love _you."

She'd never seen such a fragile and vulnerable look on his face. Ever. Not in a million years was it something Prussia would show to her. But here he was, holding her hands, telling her _he loved her, _looking like he was about to break. It was the look of needing closure- no, not just closure, a positive end to his 500 years of struggle.

Hungary could feel her heart throb with sympathy. But even still… Prussia was the guy who'd teased her, made a mockery of her, and been one of her worst enemies for most of their lives. She'd never, not for one second, had a romantic thought about him. If this were some storybook romance, she would look up lovingly into his eyes, accept his past actions for what they were-just nerves, be overwhelmed with sudden love for him, and admit that love, then kiss him passionately as heart-shaped fireworks erupted in the distance. But this wasn't a Disney movie, this was reality. And her heart wasn't as fickle as a Disney princess's. She didn't want to give him a bad ending after so many years of torture, but she also didn't want to give him any sort of hope. She didn't know if she could ever bring herself to think of him as dateable material.

Prussia had kind of hoped for that storybook ending, but between his optimistic hopes, idealistic dreams, cynical thoughts, and outright pessimistic self-depreciation, there was reality, and it wasn't one that was hard to accept. Hungary was speechless. And that's what he expected would happen. Inwardly, he smiled, thinking back to what his friend Huppert had once said. _"Their emotions are strong, but brittle." _Prussia had had time to see this theory in action. And sometimes, it was true. But this wasn't just your average woman. This was Hungary.

"I know you're uncertain about this whole thing." He also knew that that was the understatement of the year. "I wouldn't expect you to suddenly turn around and return even a semblance of a romantic thought about me, not after I've suddenly thrown all of this on you, and especially not after how I've treated you. That's why, all I ask of you, is one chance. One chance to get my foot in the door and show you a different side of me. One you've never seen before. If you like him, you can see him again. If you don't, I'll forget about it, and he will disappear. _And_ I will never call you Elizabeta again." Hungary smiled at the bit of humor at the end. She did have to admit, hearing him say her human name, when he wasn't using it to degrade her, was actually kind of nice. Something about the proper noun resonated well with his accent. "So, Hungary, will you attend America and Canada's birthday party with me?"

She couldn't see the harm in one date. Plus, Hungary was the kind of girl who wouldn't let a rare opportunity pass her by. Perhaps she'd be pleasantly surprised.

"Alright," she agreed. "After you waited so long, I couldn't just say no, could I?"

Prussia's body relaxed instantly; he hadn't even realized he was tensed up, but his muscles cried with relief from the relaxation. His first trial was over, and he had passed it.

"So I'll go with you, on one condition."

"Huh?" his eyebrows rose. "What's that?"

"You let me read the rest of these letters, and the ones in your room."

"WHAT!" Prussia didn't have to think before responding, very clearly as to why not. "Hungary, if you read those you're probably going to hate me before we even get to the party…"

She giggled. _Giggled. _Prussia focused in on that cute noise that had just escaped her. "I know you've become less and less of an idiot as time's gone on. I won't judge you poorly for the old letters. I can't say I won't smack you a few times, though." Prussia still looked uncertain; those reject letters were rejects for a reason. Hungary picked up on that. "Okay, here's what we'll do. You can pick out the letters you'll allow me to read."

If there was one thing that would make Prussia and Hungary a logical pair, it was that Hungary knew him. When he was acting a certain way, she knew why he was acting that way, and how to best move the situation in her favor. That used to apply to their behavior in battle; she could gain the upper hand just by watching what he was doing and saying. Somehow she had managed to misinterpret the single largest secret of their rivalry/friendship, but now that she knew, she would use that ability to keep Prussia from having to worry about making an ass of himself. '_That is, if Hungary ever…'_ Inwardly, Prussia was shaking his head. _'Nein! I don't want to think about the future right now!'_

He closed his eyes, smiled lightly, and nodded his head once. "Fair is fair." When he looked back up, something caught his eye, via his peripheral vision. Something in the window to his brother's office. Something… blonde.

"Oh jüngerer Bruuudeeer~! I KNOW YOU'RE EAVESDROPPING!"

Germany wasn't going to hide it. He popped up, giving his brother a devious smirk and a thumbs-up sign. Prussia realized that his brother would only have been eavesdropping if he'd known the reason that Prussia was looking for Hungary. He received a raised middle finger in return, which only widened his smirk. Germany was normally cool, collected, predictable, and not playful, but he could be one sneaky bastard when he felt like it. The unfortunate Prussia never knew when that was going to be.

Prussia turned his attention back toward Hungary. "What part did Germany play in this?"

Hungary shrugged, unsure. "No part that I know of. I went to you room of my own accord, then asked him where I could recycle… oh, he must have seen the letters in the trash bin!"

Damn that Kraut… he'd have to get back at him later, but for now he had letters to share.

After Hungary left his room, satisfied with the stack of letters he'd chosen to give up, Prussia was finally able to fully relax. He fell back on his bed, staring at the blank in uninteresting ceiling, but there could have been hot and delicious gourmet wurst growing from the ceiling, and he wouldn't have noticed. He was far too preoccupied.

It was done. This whole thing was seriously over, and by some strange twist of fate, it didn't end badly. It may not have been the best thing he could have hoped for, but it was the best he could have realistically expected: He had a date with Hungary!

He… had a date.. with… oh…

Heilige Scheiße.

* * *

*****I had a bit of a time deciding whether to make Prussia flip off Germany or give him the A-OK sign, which is apparently equivalent in most parts of Germany. I hear the middle finger is more common nowadays, though, so I went for that.*****


	5. Chapter One and Seven Halves

*Here's a crack chapter with a terrible plot and no ending that I didn't even read back over! :D

Apparently, I've been unable to distinguish between β (beta) and ß XD Figured that one out while searching what the capital form of the letter is (ẞ). I'm an idiot. Sorry to anyone who knows Greek or German and I made want to grind their teeth. I went back and fixed it.*

* * *

"Italy, where is that idiot brother of mine?"

The Italian tensed up. Germany had gone into hiding as soon as the whole ordeal with Hungary was over. He may not have been a coward, but he wasn't stupid, either.

"Ehhh… I'm not sure. I think he went back to his office to do some work," Italy lied.

Prussia sighed. "Very well. I'm going back to the store for a bit, but tell him that I WILL get him back for this." With that, Prussia marched out of the house. Italy watched him as he disappeared up the forest path on the opposite side of the street.

"Geeeermanyyyyy! Prussia went to the stooore!" Italy yelled out in his normal overly cheerful voice.

"Are you sure he's gone all the way?" Germany called out from his hiding location.

"Yeah, I watched him!"

"Good. Germany's voice sounded like it was coming closer. "I'm starved for a sandwich."

"Ooh; can we have pasta? I can make you a spaghetti and meatball sub!"

"That sounds repulsive!" Germany replied, his cringing evident through his tone of voice. "It's supposed to just be a meatball sub! Do you have to add pasta to everything?"

Italy's happy face deflated. "Awww, but I spent a long time trying to get the recipe just right for you! It's really good; trust me!"

Germany sighed as he pulled a pack of hamburger buns from a kitchen cabinet. "Okay, a compromise: You can make me one next time I'm hungry. Right now I'm in the mood for a wurst sandwich. Watch to make sure Prussia doesn't-"

Too late.

"SCHIEẞE!" Germany cried out as he was suddenly grabbed from behind in an air choke.

"I AM SO FLUSHING YOUR FACE IN THE TOILET, BRUDER!"

"LET GO OF ME, YOU JERK!" Germany croaked. For how much stronger than Prussia Germany appeared to be, he was still the younger brother. And when Prussia was out for his blood, Germany almost always lost. Prussia, like magic, went from having the force of a Smart Car to an 18-wheeler in no time, flat. Fortunately, since Prussia wasn't actually trying to kill him, he wasn't putting so much pressure on his throat that he couldn't breathe. "Everything turned out alright, didn't it? Let go!"

"Even still, you are always meddling in my affairs in the most devious ways! So no mercy for you! Toilet time!" his voice was strained from struggling to keep Germany in a controlled hold.

"Name one other recent time I've-"

"Last week: Rigging my water gun to backfire at the last moment during our battle!"

That _had _been an ingenious bit of engineering. They'd had a water gun battle, as was their way of settling all non-serious disputes during the summer. Germany had set his brother's water gun up with a remote control switch that would cause the water to spray back in his face. When they were tied at the last point, Germany triggered it, and Prussia got a face-full from his own gun, as well as from Germany unloading on him. The younger did concede defeat, since he'd cheated, but he'd gotten a good laugh out of it.

"You're a meddling little boy who needs to be punished! What if Hungary had freaked out, hm?"

"But she didn't! Brother, you're not actually going to do this, are you? You can't be serious! Please-"

All Italy could do was cringe and listen to the painful sounds of a grown man screaming his head off, another cackling his ass off, and rushing toilet water. He knew better to get involved when Prussia was bent on punishing Germany.

After washing his hands, the former walked calmly from the downstairs half-bath, whistling contently. The latter did not follow suit, and Italy rushed in to make sure he was alright.

"G-Germany?" he asked softly.

He was slumped in front of the toilet, hair disheveled and wet, staring idly forward.

"I'll never be clean again…" he murmured through his catatonic daze.

"It's.. not that bad, right Germany? You just cleaned the toilet like this morning, didn't you? It's clean…"

"I'm covered in it… I think I got some up my nose."

A voice came from just outside the doorframe, outside in the hallway. "5, 4, 3, 2, 1…"

"GYAAAAAHHHHHH!" Germany popped up like a corn kernel on fire. Italy narrowly jumped back in time to avoid being pushed aside by the water-soaked man as he fled down the hall and towards his shower.

This scene was too much for Prussia, who fell to the floor with laughter at the nervous breakdown his brother was having. "Oh jeez…" he managed to gasp, "I'll bet my life that he jumped into the shower with his clothes on!"

"What did you do this time!?" a female voice came. Prussia's laughter ceased instantly. Between his plot for revenge and the sweet payoff, he'd forgotten there was a lady in their presence. A very important and somewhat unladylike lady.

"Ah, Hungary, I-"

She knew very well what he'd done, so it was time for some punishment of her own. "Come here!"

Prussia wasn't given much of a choice, as he was quickly grabbed by the ear, and dragged to his feet and back to the living room sofa. Italy, still confused by the recent explosion of action, simply listened to the dialogue from where he was standing.

"Hungary, what are you- W-w-why are you putting me over your lap- What's with the frying pan all of a sudden- OWWW! OH GOD; A FRYING PA- OW! IS NOT AN ACCEPTABLE- GAH! TOOL FOR SPANKING PEOPLE!"

"Quit complaining *thwack* and accept *thwack* your punishment *thwack* for being cruel to your brother!"

"YOU'RE BEING CRUEL TO ME!" Prussia cried.

"What was that? *thwack*"

Italy couldn't help but smile and sigh at how hilarious the scene sounded from afar.

"Ahhh~ good times. Good times."

* * *

I hate how the site now prevents strings of exclamations and question marks. It screwed up my previous chapters :


	6. Italy's Not a Virgin?

*I wanted to give a shoutout to Stardust98. She gave me of couple awesome suggestions for last chapter that I actually liked better than my idea, but I'd already written most of it, and I would have gone far too in-depth with them. But I still want to do something with them XD Thanks!*

* * *

And there he stood at John F. Kennedy International Airport, waiting.

The party was taking place at a venue in Manhattan. America was planning on going for broke this year: He'd chosen the Ritz Carlton. Every year that they'd chosen a four- or five-star venue, they'd been perma-banned from it. The Ritz had been forewarned by other hotels to deny him their ballroom, but the large sum of money they'd been paid spoke much louder.

Countries had been flying in all day; Prussia himself, along with France, Spain, Italy, Romano, and Germany, had only arrived about an hour earlier, and Hungary's flight was due in any moment. He'd seen quite a few other countries, mostly European; some of the northern European countries (namely Finland, Sweden, Iceland, Norway, and Denmark) had chartered a private jet to fly in together, and he'd also run into Switzerland and Liechtenstein when he arrived. He hadn't seen many other countries; America didn't know many African nations very well (Kenya was the only one on the guest list; they'd been getting to know each other better since 2008,) and any Asian or South American countries would have been flying into LaGuardia.

Prussia let his mind drift back to a few days ago, when the planning began.

* * *

He really didn't want to call those two. He _so _did not want them to know. But this was not a situation he had the know-how to handle alone. Not wanting them to sound an international crisis warning (which he was legitimately afraid might happen,) he called them the day of Hungary's departure, but he didn't tell them why they were being summoned until they arrived several hours later.

Since she'd discovered the truth, and his situational adrenaline had worn off, he'd hardly left his room any time he didn't know she wasn't at the house. This irritated Germany on the day she'd left, who was about to go drag Prussia out of his room as punishment for his rudeness, but Hungary stopped him, knowing that the whole thing would be far too awkward for Prussia. Germany smiled inwardly at this. It was like they had a perfect understanding of one another. For former enemies, Germany could see what his brother saw in her.

Prussia had worked up the nerve to come out and say a very clearly awkward goodbye to her before she'd left for the airport. She returned the farewell with a quick, friendly hug, which made the taller country blush madly and caused his brain to short-circuit, but nonetheless he hugged her back. Fortunately, the contact was not there long enough for him to get too attached, and she was soon off with Germany on a return trip to the airport. Italy rode with them, but he was coming back; Prussia had personally requested that he stay for another couple of days.

When those two arrived that evening, Germany was the one to answer the door. Looking through the peep hole, he immediately sighed, and reluctantly opened the door.

"Oh great. Mein bruder invited over the Apocalypse."

"¡Hola, Alemania!" Spain waved happily, ignoring the begrudging comment. France seemed less excited to see the German, but greeted him with a, " Bonsoir, Allemagne."

That was one thing that bugged him about these two. They both had a habit of tossing in words from their native languages. The typically-devised system of speaking between nations was to speak the native language of whatever country they were in. Unless they were speaking to America, because no one wanted to hear him butcher their native language, and he got a kick out of their accents, anyway. Pretty much only Latin American countries could handle it without wanting to kill him.

Spain had a bad habit of throwing random Spanish words into his speech, and France had one of throwing in entire_ sentences, _then repeating them in whatever language he was supposed to be speaking. It could get quite painful to listen to.

"Guten Abend. Prussia's upstairs. Tell him Italy and I will be up in a second."

"Do you know what all of this is about, Germany?" Spain inquired. "He didn't tell us anything."

"Yes, but I think you'd better hear it straight from the horse's mouth."

Spain looked at France, who simply shrugged back, and the two entered the house, removing their shoes and placing them into the entryway closet, before getting into a short discussion about what it could possibly be, that faded as they treaded up the stairs. Germany called for Italy, who was already on his way with some biscotti, beer, and wine he'd prepared at Prussia's request, and they followed the other two up the stairs.

"Prussia! Nous sommes arrivés; we have arrived~!" France sung as he tossed open the door to Prussia's room.

He was happy they were there, but at the same time, he was dreading their reaction. Italy also came in with treats for their guests, and…

"Germany; you're not allowed!" frowned Prussia.

Germany looked offended. "Why not?" he scoffed.

"No traitors permitted past this point!" He pointed to the doorframe.

"If it weren't for me, you probably wouldn't be sitting here with France, Spain, Italy, and biscotti right now." Germany rose a very good point, gesturing toward the two more western countries on the bed, the southern country in the desk chair, and the tray of treats the latter was holding. "And, you already got your revenge." Germany shuddered, remembering the aftermath of yesterday's episode. He still didn't feel quite clean, but Italy was afraid that if he showered anymore, he'd rub off his skin. "I want to hear what they have to say."

Prussia glared at him. "More like you want to see my reaction to what they say, you bastard," he mumbled into his beer. He didn't strictly say so, but Germany knew by his response that he was okay to stay. Call it "brotherly understanding", if you will.

France and Spain were getting more and more interested by the second. "Well, don't keep us in the dark any longer!" Spain demanded.

"Fine," Prussia sighed, standing up. "My friends, and asshole little brother: I need your help… getting ready for a date."

France and Spain's eyes lit up like fireworks. "Oh; this is wonderful!" France shouted. Prussia was still uneasy; the next question would be coming very-

"Who is the lucky lady!?" The two asked in perfect unison. Creepy.

Prussia dissolved into mumbling, until the area around the bush was very, very well beaten. "Um… you see, she's, ah…" Prussia's eyes made contact with his brother's for a time so short, than blinking would have resulted in him missing it. But Germany did not blink, and he caught that sign. Brotherly understanding to the rescue once more, he explained for his mentally stuck brother:

"It's Hungary."

Two jaws hit the bed, and one could practically see the words "Mon dieu!" and " ¡Dios mío!" radiating toward the ceiling.

"But that…"

"But she…"

"But you…"

France and Spain were stuck in this state of dumbfounded babbling for at least another good ten seconds, before the pair wordlessly rose, their eyes hidden behind shadows, their bodies marching closer and close toward Prussia, France on his left and Spain on his right.

Each slapped a hand down on one of Prussia's shoulders. The former country looked very, very unsure about this, eyes wide and mouth low.

Once again, the two managed to yell in perfect unison:

"THIS IS AN EMERGENCY!"

"We need more details! Where are you going?" France began to interrogate and figure out the current situation at hand, but Spain smacked him on the shoulder.

"¡Idiota! We can't jump into that yet; Prussia has to tell us what happened first!"

"Uhhh… personally, I like France's way of handling things better-"

"No getting around it! You tell us the whole story now!"

Prussia sighed. Sighing seemed like it was going to be a constant theme of the night. He told them the story of what'd happened, right up to where they were going for their "date", answering their questions, and having Germany help to fill in the parts that he'd so deviously played.

"Wow, Germany, you are a salaud, a real jerk, no?" France asked playfully.

"Hey. If I had a brother who was being an idiot for so long, I would so the same thing. Don't you agree Italy?"

Italy nodded. "Yeah; I don't have that problem much with Romano, but sometimes, if a lady is really pretty, he'll freeze up and I'll have to play a little dirty in order to bring them together! It just means Germany is being a good brother. Besides," he gave a cute smile, "aren't younger brothers supposed to be a little annoying sometimes, anyway?"

True that. "Okay, anyway, _now that I have been thoroughly humiliated,_ will you guys help me?"

France frowned. He'd frowned earlier when Prussia told him about the destination of their date, and now that they were back on the subject of the date, he thought again about the location. "Why did you say you wanted to take her _there_ for your first date? You should have brought her to a five-star restaurant in Paris. You know I would have treated you well."

Prussia bared his gritted teeth and looked away, a look that said, "Do you KNOW how awkward a one-on-one date with Hungary would be!?"

"It would have been _romantic!_"

"I think that would be the problem…" mused Italy. "If Prussia's anything like Germany, 'romantic' isn't his strong suit. He would probably just freeze up and look real silly!" The comment was innocent, but managed to lower the spirits of both of the German citizens. Italy noticed their defeated postures, and tried to take it back. "I don't mean that in a bad way! You're really nice, Germany, and I'm sure you're going to do fine, Prussia! That's why we're here to help you!"

Spain nodded once, eyes determined. "Sí. You've got the representations of the three most romantic countries in the world right here. Experienced in pleasing a woman's mind,"

"Heart," Italy added,

"And body~" France concluded.

"I hate to throw a fork in your speech, but doesn't Italy go around with the virginity-proclaiming all the time?" Prussia pointed out.

Italy grinned smugly and shrugged before saying,

"I mean… who kills a virgin?"

Germany wasn't sure whether he was more shocked that Italy had been smart enough to use his apparently non-existent "virginity" as a defense tactic, that Italy had been stupid enough to think that it would actually work, or that it probably actually _had_. But hey, it couldn't have hurt; he was still there, wasn't he? He decided that the most surprising part of this was that no one _else_ seemed even remotely surprised.

"Fair enough," Prussia spoke. "I may be no virgin, and I can get in a woman's head for as long as my needs require, but this isn't some one-night stand. And this isn't just some woman… This woman is special… And I have a terrible feeling I'm going to screw this up in the least awesome way possible."

"Relax, mi cúmbila!" Spain patted his friend on the back. "With our help, you can't go wrong! We just have to plan everything, and run through a list of scenarios. Alright, so first things first, when she gets into America, you're going to want to pick her up from the airport in style…"

* * *

He looked up at the new batch of arrivals.

And there she was.

She was glamorous.

Something about Hungary allowed her to look stunning in the most simple of dress designs: A black, spaghetti strap dress with a lovely lilac-colored flower attached at the base of the left strap. The dress, as she moved, subtly reflected the surrounding light with a layer of glittery shimmer beneath the top black veil of fabric. She also wore a black, glitter-kissed flower as a hair barrette, framing her face to her right. She'd straightened her naturally wavy hair, but the extended flight had the effect of giving some bounce to the ends, creating an even better effect. Her hair could have been frizzed all over her head and Prussia wouldn't have cared, though. She was stunning, no matter how much or little effort she put into it.

He himself didn't look half bad. White suit, black shirt, and a purple tie that coordinated wonderfully with Hungary's flower. He had a very unlikely ally to thank for that. The last person in the world he'd have expected, actually.

* * *

Prussia hadn't been expecting Austria to be the one at the door. Apparently his brother had called in a favor. The visiting country had a cool look on his face, neither bitter nor friendly, and Germany brought both of them to the living room to talk. After bringing a couple of glasses of beer, he left the two "alone" (his definition of alone was 'right around the corner eavesdropping to make sure the whole thing didn't go south.)

But it never did. This may have even been the most civil the two'd ever acted around one another. Austria gave Prussia advice about the things Hungary did and didn't like. What drove her wild, and what drove her insane. The little things he might not notice, but should know were happening, and the little things he did notice, and what they meant. He told stories about their dates, and relationships, and the two laughed about things that only two men talking about the same girl could.

"Why are you doing this?" Prussia asked. There was no suspicion in his voice; it was just an honest question. "I know Germany asked you to, but I would have expected you to say no. We're not exactly the best of friends, and she is your ex-wife.

Austria looked down into his mug of beer. "Prussia… I don't know if you've come to realize this yet, but if not, I am sure you soon will. Hungary… there's something about her. No matter what, no matter your relationship with her, no matter how you feel about her… you want her to be happy. Of course, if you can make her happy, that's wonderful, but even if you're not the one who can…" he sighed heavily. "You will have to see for yourself. You will know what I mean."

Prussia's gaze was soft. He'd never seen this side of the Austrian before-not that he'd ever been this close to him without the two duking it out. "Mm," he acknowledged. He'd know that feeling. Whenever she was upset, he could hardly keep himself from doing something about it. The only reason he usually wasn't able to was because nine times out of ten, he was the one who made her upset in the first place.

"And you'd better not screw things up like you normally do! Germany managed to talk me into this by saying you're actually trying this time, but I see something so small as the corners of her mouth turned slightly downward-"

"I won't mess this up. I know that there are no second chances here. I can't just give up and try again later. Besides," he placed a boastful hand on his chest, "I am far too awesome to screw this up."

* * *

_'What if I screw this up?' _Prussia caught himself thinking. Hungary had seen him, acknowledged him, and was now only about three strides away from him. _'What do I do now!?' _he panicked. _'Words, right. Make words! A… a compliment! And don't make it crude!"_

"Wow…" he started. His first reaction was to say something like, "I'm surprised you clean up so nice," but he bit his tongue. "You look… amazing. Awesome, even."

Saying something like that had been Germany's idea. He'd posed the theory that if Prussia suddenly turned into a super suave romantic, Hungary would be freaked out. Throwing in little things that made Prussia himself would prevent that.

Hungary smirked. "You don't clean up bad yourself, sir. I hope we'll be able to make it on time. I hear the traffic in New York is atrocious."

"Not a problem. We will get there in plenty of time. Did you bring anything else with you?"

Hungary had a small shoulder bag, large enough to hold a few changes of clothing and some essentials. "Nope, this is it. How are we getting to the party?"

"That's a secret," Prussia winked. "Would you like me to carry your bag?"

Hungary was quite the independent woman, and if she could do something herself, she would. "Thanks, but I can carry it myself. It's not that heavy. As for our transportation… should I be afraid…?"

Hungary's reaction was pretty much the opposite of fear, when she realized that the navy blue Rolls Royce Phantom they'd walked up to was their ride to the party. The chauffer bowed and greeted the lady, taking her bag from her to place in the trunk. Prussia went to open the door for her.

"Prussia, you… you didn't have to go through all of this trouble!" She'd expected to be taking a taxi, at best.

"This is my one chance," Prussia explained. "I'd go through all the trouble in the world for…" he trailed off, still finding it difficult to speak what he felt for her out loud. "But I mean, that's not the only reason; it's not like if this happened again, I wouldn't do it. I just want to show you the best, is all. Plus, a lovely lady deserves a lovely car… and all… so…"

Hungary smiled at Prussia's rambling. "Thank you very much." She entered the car through the open door. Prussia closed it once she was situated, and ran around the back of the car to get in on the other side. "I have to admit, it is nice seeing you be a gentleman for once."

"Yeah, well… I didn't exactly plan to be a jerk to you all of those years, it just sort of happened. If I'd had it my way, this would have happened a long time ago."

They talked about various things during the ride as they sipped on champagne from the car's minibar, but Prussia found it difficult to focus. His mind was repeatedly, deafeningly, screaming, "I'M ON A DATE WITH HUNGARY! I'M ON A DATE WITH HUNGARY!"

"Prussia?" Hungary questioned.

"Hm?" he snapped back to attention.

"I was saying that I think it's time to get out," she repeated.

"Oh, yeah, sorry. They'd been starting and stopping so much in the hour they'd been in traffic that he hadn't even noticed they'd reached their final destination.

The outside of the hotel appeared simple enough: A stone façade lined the face of the first floor, and a not very particular-looking awning stretched over the entry. But the Ritz Carlton name spoke for itself, and the area they were met once they entered certainly lived up to that name.

"Wow; I've never been in a hotel this nice!" Hungary was shocked by the extravagance of the lobby. She'd stayed in her share of four- and five-star hotels around the world, but this one in particular struck some sort of cord with her.

"I can't believe you're making the lady carry her own bag!" said a distinctly French voice from behind the two.

They turned around, surely enough to see France behind them. He was wearing a white button-down shirt with the first couple of buttons undone, and black dress pants with black shoes. The party was not a black-tie event, but they'd been informed to dress nicely.

Prussia had told Hungary on the ride over that Spain, France, and Italy had helped him make sure he wasn't going to do anything idiotic. "I'm quite fine carrying my own bag," she explained politely. "If Prussia suddenly started to treat me like a delicate flower, I don't know what I'd do!"

"Probably sock me in the face…" Prussia mumbled. France frowned, thinking of his response as slightly crude, but Hungary didn't seem to mind. In fact, she grinned and agreed.

"You're probably right! Just because I'm in a fancy dress doesn't mean you should take me lightly. It's a good thing you realize that!"

"I've seen what happens to people who _don't _realize that. I don't wish to make the same mistake," he chuckled lightly.

France smiled. _'So. That's how it is.'_ "You two should get into the party and say hi to the birthday boys!"

Prussia caught something knowing in France's expression, but he couldn't pick out exactly what he was. He let it flutter out of mind, and he and Hungary nodded in agreement with France, then went inside of the ball room. What the night had in store, Prussia didn't know, but he hoped it was something perfect.

* * *

*I probably won't cover the actual party. If anyone REALLY wants me to, I'll do it later on. Next chapter will probably be the last one, but I might do a couple of alternate endings.*


	7. The Party: Prologue

**Important A/N!:**

Okay, so. I got a request to write the events of the party. But I only have half an idea of what to write, and no idea how to write it. So I'm going to upload the first part of chapter six, so you don't think I'm neglecting this story. Thought this would be better than updating with an A/N only.

For fun, after reading this, why don't y'all tell me what sort of plans do you want to see France and Spain try? Anything's fair game :) I'd really appreciate it!

* * *

"This is so boring."

Spain's cheek was lackadaisically propped up on the back side of his wrist. The party around him was lively, and everyone else was having a great time, but he and his table partner were focused on only two subjects.

After greeting America and Canada, Prussia and Hungary had been going around and socializing with the other countries at the party. Prussia had gotten a few drinks for her, and she'd gone to check her makeup once, and the rest had been 45 minutes of other forms of monotony.

"Ouí. But we made a pact to focus on them tonight." France's attention drifted to a waiter passing nearby with a bottle of wine. "Ahhh," he croaked in a heartbroken tone, "that's my favorite kind! And from such a good year! This is torture!"

Spain slapped a hand down on his shoulder to refocus his attention. "The pact, míja! The pact! Focus!"

Making a pact to not get drunk, not flirt with _anyone_, and focus solely on his friend and his friend's girl was much easier when wine of the perfect vintage was not being served, perfect pieces of human ass were not flouncing about, and their friends were not being a perfect snore-fest.

"It's far too… sober in here! Can't I just have one tiny glass of wine?"

"We promised," sighed Spain. "What happens if things go downhill and we're too drunk to help? Prussia's counting on us as a failsafe."

"I _know, _but America and Germany get their beer! Why don't they have to suffer with us? They're part of this, too!"

"They're not best friends with him. Germany didn't think this was necessary, and America probably isn't even aware that Prussia's not a country anymore."

"Prussia's not a country?" A confused voice came from behind in English.

Spain and France turned in their seats, with deadpanned expressions, to see America toting a glass of champagne. "No," Spain replied, switching over from speaking French, "He's not."

"Oh, bummer bro; since when?"

Neither really wanted to reply to the blatant stupidity. Perhaps they would have been eager to answer if they'd had any sort of home that America would see his own ignorance. But, they knew he wouldn't. "Since before World War Two," France answered.

"Ah yeah… that was a bad time for everyone. I still feel really crappy for what my boss did to Japan's house. I'm surprised we're so cool now."

_'How'd the subject become about him?' _Spain and France wondered, slightly amazed, but not at all surprised. Before either of the two could think of a way to respond, America realized he'd derailed the conversation, and pulled it back on topic. "But yeah, don't you think you guys should give them a little nudge or something?"

Spain looked at France, who looked back with the same questioning expression. Things _weren't _making much interesting headway. Maybe a little friendly interference would be fun.

"Okay," France hesitated. "Let's enact plan E."

America raised a confused eyebrow. "What about plans A through D?"

"Plan A was what's happening now," Spain explained. "Plan B was intervention if things were going south. Plan C was if she suddenly jumped on his-" there was a loud crash as Canada bumped into a waiter, and a few glasses on his tray shattered on the floor. "Plan D was in case of surprise velociraptor attack." That one had been America's idea. He beamed proudly.

This seemed to jog the proud country's memory. "And Plan E was what to do if everything was going okay but we were bored as shit, right?" he asked.

"Correct," France confirmed.

"Alright, well, you guys don't exactly look like you're enjoying yourselves just sitting here, so pump up the drama!" America raised a fist along with his command.

France and Spain exchanged grins. Drama pumping was their forte.


End file.
